Awakened
by Blood.Stained.Fingers
Summary: He was doomed the moment the unforgivable curse left his lips. The Horcrux stirred inside him, and took control. Harry was losing himself as he became something completely different. One shot. AU of Order of the Phoenix.


**A/N – I don't know where this has come from – but I thought I would go for it. It is odd – and if you're confused at the end – all the better. It is probably better if you look at it and **_**do not even try**_** to comprehend it. **

**My Beta hasn't checked this I'm afraid – but I have double checked it several times –so if there are any terrible mistakes let me know – but I want to show this madness I have written **_**now. **_**I am really excited. :~)**

**Awaken**

Time itself is a fickle thing, and in life we have the brief feeling of lost time, gained time and the feeling of time stopping all together. Then of course there are time turners, moving back along the line, creating a loop in the substance in which we exist. There are theories that after doing so, that small part of you is in a constant circle repeating the action from the moment you used it until it was finished, and then – your job being done, the other you simply starts it all again.

Now, no one can profess to understand the fabric of the material of the world itself, anyone one who does is a liar or unable to tell the difference between opinion and fact. This branch of knowledge is something that is never meant to be breached – the logic of muggles cannot penetrate the outer shell of this existence, and even the wizards with their powerful magic could only skim the edge of the sea of unknown existence of time.

Things have come in to this world that should not by any man's logic fit in, things that shouldn't be possible. One of these implausible things was the Veil which resided in the Death Chamber, which was firmly in the wizard world away from muggles. There were many things in the Department of Mysteries that cannot be explained by anybody nor anything that humans possess – whether it be magic or technology that would be investigating it.

It is here that the true mysteries of time are bore before us, and yet we can still not comprehend the complexities of it. The events that happened here lasted only just under 10 minutes. It started as one Sirius Black was hit with an unidentified curse from his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange. He happened to in front of the Veil, and being hit with the curse, unknown affects it had, the power forced him backwards, where he fell through the misty substance, and faded from view.

This is when time seemed to slow down, the curses that flew in the air seemed to be caught by air resistance and instead of hurling towards the wizards they seemed to swim and float lazily. That is especially for Mr Harry Potter.

It was like several blows to the stomach, each one knocking more and more of the breath in his lungs out of him. He stared blankly at the veil, waiting for Sirius to come back out, jump out from behind it and laugh loudly, he wanted him to bend over bracing his hands on his knees as he cried with laughter at their shocked expressions.

He could hear the insane bitch's laughter – it rang in the silent room – the whole place devoid of fighting now. Every fighter had paused, curses poised on the end of their tongues but their eyes wandered towards the frozen boy. He could feel the grief – it drowned him, but he could not feel tears in his eyes, he could hear his own blood pumping through his veins, the whirling in his ears as everything in his body sped up, adrenaline flooded his veins, he shook with the onslaught on his pain as he realised that Sirius was not coming back. Yet time did not speed up with him.

She still hadn't stopped laughing; she was spinning around in circles arms held open wide as though to welcome death into this place, to come for the rest of them, she too was the only one not really affected by this change in time, in the perception of those around her.

Harry was moving so fast inside his mind; emotions were spinning hard and fast around his mind. Never had he felt so complex, the emotions were crippling him. This increased his awareness of the world too, everything with him was different.

He could sense someone behind him – he turned around spinning quickly, wand already held over his head, a defensive position that was not his.

Tonks stopped, her eyes widening in fright at Harry's torn expression, it was written across his face – as much as he wore his heart on his sleeve. The loss was dominant for a moment, but underneath that was the _burning, smouldering, and undiluted _hate. Anger did not describe the intensity of his _dislike_ for Bellatrix Lestrange. Tonks nodded once at Harry, she could not judge him for his actions, for what she knew he would try to do – she could read the unforgivable on his face as though Umbridge had carved it into his flesh with a blood quill as she had the back of his hand with _I must not tell lies_.

His eyes were wild, delirious, and almost as crazed as Lestrange's were, and tonight there would be no going back – the curse would be spoken and used, and Harry would be unable to feel remorse from that action and it pained Tonks to know she would let him do it, even encourage him to.

It is now we see how that Tonks now feels that time has gone to fast – Harry Potter's innocence would soon be lost.

The fighting which had stopped for mere moments was started again as Lestrange fired a curse towards the pair, instinctively Tonks dropped to ground and rolled away before leaping deftly back to her feet. Harry just _slid_ to the side, as though it was a snake in his body moving for him. His eyes caught hers, and like when a muggle has an eye test – a lens slipped into place and the world was in complete focus. There was no black and white – the world was grey and black, he couldn't find the white anymore – Sirius had been his light – the brightness he had clung onto with every being in his fibre, and this bitch had ripped him away forever, and she still shrieked with that grating laugh. How dare she laugh when she had done this to him?!

Sirius Black was a great wizard and very powerful – but he was restrained inside himself. He had the power to be _amazing_ but he would not let the Black Magic that was a part of his blood run free, but if Harry asked him to – he knew he would. He was Harry's light, yet he was dark, yet Harry only saw the good in him, but when the light is gone – what _can't _the dark do.

The emotion that although splayed on his face was not completely vented, and it suddenly needed to be. He needed this grief gone, because something else was replacing it – anger, and hate. He stood there amidst the battle, as the order tried in vain to protect him from the death eaters. Harry did not notice his eyes were on her, she danced in battle firing lethal curses and delighting in every ounce of pain and loss she caused.

Harry closed his eyes, and opened his mouth and just ... roared, screamed, and yelled. It was garble of nonsense, he could feel his throat tear with the force as it drove its way out. Once again, the battle froze, raw magic crackled through the air, people winced at the power of it, and the absolute grief it caused them all as it infected them. Harry Potter now seemed even madder than those who had spent years in Askaban. Many bowed in a hunch to protect themselves as they cowered in the fear from the exuded power.

Bellatrix on the other hand, twisted and turned to him, excited and insane as she was – now she felt she had a true challenge. She grinned at him, her lips painted red pulled back to reveal black teeth.

"Ickle Potty?" She asked "Are you having a tantrum?" She giggled, her form hunched, an automatic posture from worshipping her master and being chained to the floor in Askaban, "Are you are angry that ickle Siri isn't coming back?" She cooed, wrapping a finger around a curl and pouting at him.

"You going to hurt me Potty?" She laughed.

Harry, lost all of his incoherent thoughts and charged, she shrieked with laughter and ran herself, dancing around the fighters, whilst Harry just charged like an angry bull, knocking all of them out of the way – both sides felt the brunt of his ire.

Now if we were to once again to bring time into this concept – barely three minutes has passed since Sirius had died. Also in the slowing down of time – which is more likely to be the speeding up of the conscious mind, you might – if you were a wizard compare the two – one a Slytherin – who danced around the fighters – cunning and self-preserving and the other a Gryffindor, who charged recklessly and full of bravery – which truly boarded on stupidity.

They made their way into the Atrium, Bellatrix skipping and singing, and jumping and spinning as she ran calling vicious taunts. The room was so dark – the glass only reflecting the absence of light and the large fireplaces large and devoid of the large green fires that would have been oddly comforting in this.

"SIRIUS???? ARE YOU HEREEEE? ICKLE POTTY NEEDS TO HOLD YOUR HAND!" Bellatrix bellowed into the empty chasm, and it repeated several times.

"CRUICO" Harry screamed, how dare she after all she had done!

Bella shrieked slightly, falling to the ground, in surprise and her wand rolled away from her. She lay still for a few seconds in shock –trying to process the fact that good little _light_ Potter had sent that curse towards her. She collected herself though, Potter might surpirise her again – and his crucio could never be worse than her masters. Her mark burned fiercely as she felt him enter the ministry.

"Pitiful Potty" She turned over, leaning on her elbows, "You need to mean them..." She purred, smiling up with her rotten teeth.

She glanced at her wand, which lay a few feet away from her. She looked back at Potter, but his eyes were glazed and his wand arm had fallen to his side.

He wasn't aware of the world, the moment that curse had left his lips, something stirred, deep, deep down inside of him awoke. He could feel its excitement and joy, it wriggled, and he could feel the pressure in the back of his mind, something was there.

He could feel the Dark Lord arrive and whisper in his ear, he could feel the dull pain in his scar, but it was wrong he could feel a creature inside of him reach out towards it as trying to call it back, it recognised its other – another part of it was near.

He heard the Dark Lord speak, telling him to do it – to crucio Bellatrix, but he only turned to the Dark Lord, with his glazed eyes, his wand held in numb fingers at his side.

The presence in his mind, expanded and reached out with gnarled hands, trying to reach his consciousness, and long yellow finger nails, clawed at his soul.

His soul was white - clean and pure, never had a vicious thought that had any substantial meaning ever crossed it. But the speck of black in the corner, restrained and asleep, had awoken from the use if the dark curse – it called to it, pulled it, weakened the light holding it down. As it is well known – it only take a drop of black to make white grey – any shade of grey. The blacker the black and the whiter the white, the more easily they are corrupted.

Harry swayed on his feet, and fell to the floor, eyes wide open, and now their green brightness seemed to change ever so slightly. He lay on his back, his limbs akimbo as he lost all control. Dimly he thought it should hurt this... thing happening to him, but there was only numbness, although he could feel and sense the presence of the evil as it moved, but he only had himself to blame – an unforgivable awoke it, and he didn't know how to stop it, and the fact that his body had become paralysed in the exchange of control meant that this was a lost cause. It is well known that the body cannot live without a soul – the Dark Lord although splintered several times was not soulless, there was a tiny piece there that rooted him to the earth. Harry on the other hand, now had two, and with neither in control he was now no more than an empty shell.

Voldemort, looked worried for a mere moment that this would not be a good as it should have been, The-Boy-Who-Lived passes out from just seeing him? He had more bravery when he was one!

He walked over to the boy, wand ready in case the boy was more Slytherin than he thought. He summoned the brother wand, and slid it into his robe pocket, before looking down at the prone body.

The boy twitched, and his green eyes locked with the crimson red of Voldemort's, and the Dark Lord watched in morbid fascination as crimson bled through the emeralds for eyes the boy had.

He probed the boys mind, and he could see himself, younger dragging himself through the white of the boy's soul leaving a dark grey streak that spread as he moved on. The small body it had formed was burned, and the skin flaked as the light crippled it, it screamed and ploughed onwards, the body's condition worsened, before then healing slightly then it would move again and the body would be covered in welts and burns. The fractured piece of soul, crawled in the agony of a kind hearted person – but on the piece fought, for when he reached the other side, this vessel would not be so nice anymore.

... a horcrux. Horcrux in general need a ritual to make them and another to release them – it had never occurred to Voldemort that putting one – unintentionally or otherwise, that it could be activated by dark magic used by the host. This meant something new and interesting was going to happen. This was _his _horcrux. _His_ Harry Potter.

"Bella" He spoke softly.

"Yes, My Lord?" She asked from her place on the floor.

"It is time to leave – we have what we came for. Mr Potter here might not be such a lost cause after all."

"Of course, My Lord" Was the humbled response.

Inside his mind Harry screamed as he felt the lightness of his being, being stained as one piece of Tom Riddle won again, as he felt himself become lost and himself twisted into something completely different. It felt like hours in his soul from the loss of his Godfather to the beginning of the loss of himself, but it was only nine minutes and fifty nine seconds.

______

Why does time matter in this? What does time have to do with this battle? Maybe time doesn't matter, maybe it does – but some say that people are born evil and some say that long years of hardship make one evil – who understands time enough to be able to determine that to us a split second is not a life time for someone to turn evil?

Who will see Harry Potter in mere hours and see an evil young man and say that he was born evil – when Harry fought a battle for years on end within his very soul – only to lose. He will be called a stain on the earth – when it was only a stain on his soul that spread uncontrollably.

**A/N – Review please? Tell me what you think if this... oddity. If you are confused then that is good – it's not supposed to make sense, but tell me what you think of it. I have tried to bring the concept of time into this too – I don't know why – why not though? Think of it as Alice in Wonderland – except for I'm not smoking pot. Review please???**


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